Memory to Life
by L'Ange de Musique
Summary: When an ultra-Memory Charm is administered upon Harry to save his life, it's up to Hermione to revive what he must know to get back at Lord Voldemort--and hopefully the memories of a lost love.


A/N: I really am a Draco/Hermione shipper at heart. REALLY. It's just that- well-when I saw Chamber of Secrets a few months back and that part where Harry and Hermione hugged-I just thought to myself, "Well, hey, they would probably make a good pair..."  
  
So I decided to dedicate one story to them when I had the time. And well, I sort of did. Take it easy, this is my first-ever Harry/Hermione fic, and I don't know what to think of it-I just think it decent enough to put on FF.Net. I just hope you don't barf...*but brings a barf bag anyway, just in case* If you don't, here...cheers, enjoy! ^_^  
==================================  
'Hermione, listen to me. We are all in the gravest danger, and some of the most difficult things we have to face are our emotions. Never cry too hard, never waste away in your despair-never give them the satisfaction of your surrender. Be brave...be brave like Harry.'  
But it was one of the times when Hermione Granger knew that she was only grinding the edges of defeat with her toes, waiting for everything to just fall over. Professor Remus Lupin's cold, harsh, mercilessly blunt voice echoed painfully in her head like a funeral bell, and she was already about to go insane with hopelessness, holding the knowledge that no one cared about the ordeal she had been thrown.  
To others, the sad-looking young brunette opening the crumbling whitewashed door to Emergency Room 204 of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries was "that Mudblood rumored to be on and off with poor Harry Potter, curse her," or "that brilliant but unlikely child who one would consider for the Daily Prophet, but hesitate at second glance."  
To herself, she was falling apart. It hurt more than all the rest she had endured, and for now, as her feet trudged heavily along the worn, polished floor of the infirmary, it was the worst she had come through so far.  
But maybe it wasn't. Something even more intangible, forbidden and unreachable to her waited, cast into deep, dreamless slumber, on a faded cot by the window as the wind blew into her face and her hair. As she lifted a pair of exhausted, drained hazel eyes, the dim light, all that she was provided with for the moment, reflected fatefully upon the silent, motionless bed.  
And that was when she heard her own heart breaking before her.  
The moonlight had shone upon the figure of a fairly thin youth, jet-black hair covering a faintly visible lightning bolt-shaped cut etched onto pale, deathly ashen skin. Small marks on a quaint nose suggested the existence of a pair of round glasses, and without them, the bright green of the boy's eyes remained covered in an expression of innocent, peaceful and oblivious bliss.  
'Wherever he is right now,' Hermione thought bitterly, staring neutrally at the unresponsive but nonetheless oddly seductive face. 'He must be happy. Everything he's been worried about...all the evil that surrounded him.he's left it all so far behind, just for a little while..."  
Numb to any movement of her body, her eyes absently searched the restful ebony forest on his head, and a fragile hand lovingly caressed the colorless cheeks. Awareness that he was away in his own faraway world and that he was frozen to her precious contact sank in deep, and tears with the clearness of crystal fell, adding to her pallid features.  
It was only then that she noticed that she was being watched-big orbs from the entrance were observing her intently, and the reaction ran down her spine like torturous ice water-but nothing compared to something she was so close to, but would never contact, it seemed. Her palm moved swiftly, abandoning him to roughly wipe away the drops of grief and turn to the other direction.  
The sight surprised Hermione, the kind she would least expect at a time like this, and something she hadn't seen for the last four years. Her mouth opened ever so slightly to emit an alerting gasp.  
  
"Sirius! What-where-why-how...?"  
  
A humongous, shaggy black dog had centered vision on her in the most solemn manner, and a few seconds later, the same penetrating gaze belonged to a middle-aged man with matted hair slowly turning gray, a gaunt, weary face, and a weakening body covered with nothing but a robe and a filthy black cloak. No sooner than after transforming had he drawn aggrieved steps toward her and the quiescent lad, Hermione still looking horrified and extremely apprehensive.  
  
"There is no time for asking and answering questions like that," Sirius Black replied harshly, causing her to wince-it seemed that everyone she had met was acting even more intense than ever-it was all that anxiety about the Dark Side. It was enough shock for her that such a fiercely criminally accused wizard like him would risk his neck to visit an unconscious twenty- one-year-old Harry Potter in a full-security hospital.  
  
"Hermione, did they already administer the--?"  
  
"Yes," she found herself interrupting him, the sting of confusion and loss creeping upon her again, along with the urge to cry. "Yes, Sirius, I-I'm afraid they did..."  
  
Here, Sirius's expression of urgency and iciness thawed out into one of apologetic concern, and a coarse, dirty hand clasped Hermione's shoulder as she buried her head in her own, soft sobs echoing through the chamber.  
  
"I'm sorry for that," he told her quietly. "I know we've all been so uptight right now, considering that our fears have practically materialized..." Misty eyes focused briefly on lifeless Harry. "You have to understand-"  
  
"I don't, Sirius, I don't understand at all!" Hermione choked out. "Why-why did they have to take-take everything away from him...?"  
  
'Take everything away from us...?'  
  
A sigh went through his tired chest, and he looked even more somber than ever. "Remus has been upset as well-forgive him for not explaining this to you. The Dementors Lord Voldemort summoned and combined powers with very nearly killed Harry-more emotionally than physically. All agonies and sufferings they had collected transferred to his mind to haunt him, the one of James and Lily dying being particularly strong. He had been through a great deal when the Ministry found him, and his mind had been almost permanently damaged. The only way to save him was through the Ultra-Memory Charm..."  
She comprehended it all now. And if it did anything, it made the wound deeper than ever.  
If only Hermione knew how selfish she was being. It seemed more that Harry had endured all the misery on his shoulders-he had for the last ten years, the years when the Dark Lord threatened to come back and wreak havoc upon the world of magic-and if they had found no cure for the tragedy, he would die, waste away, and slowly bring everything else along with him.  
Yet it was as if the impairing was in her heart, not in his brain.  
"We have time for relief, however," she could vaguely hear Sirius. "Voldemort escaped after taking on Harry. It seems like the Dementors took too much control and sapped him as well. We can't track him, and the Ministry is too afraid to. Hermione..."  
  
The same weathered hand that kept her from falling to the floor in complete desolation brushed her fingers away and lifted her chin, gently forcing her to concentrate on his beaten face.  
  
"I need you to be brave. You're one of the few keys we possess to finally break this shadowed era. It's what Harry did, and he would continue battling against it until his death. Promise me."  
There was a quiet pause where she thought of her answer.  
"Promise me, please."  
It took her a few good seconds, trying to stifle her weeping and cursing herself for being such a pathetic little weakling in the first place, to cough out a reasonable, "I-I promise, Si-Sirius," which, for the first time in seven years, made him smile sincerely, as he was now encouraged, and he shook her comfortingly.  
  
"I, in turn, won't let any of you down. I just came to check up on Harry. Are you staying here with him?"  
  
Hermione guiltily shook her head. She had planned earlier to go to the Three Broomsticks and drown sorrows. There was also this handsome blond man her age she had talked to yesterday-he had lost his parents in the whirlwind the other side had caused. If she was lucky, maybe she'd find him and tell him about Harry.  
  
Sirius only shrugged halfheartedly, not sensing anything. "Take care of him for me. I regret so much that I'm never around for him. It's a bit tricky to be a godfather and a wanted murderer at the same time."  
  
Hermione nodded weakly, head bowed with shame that she was being such a brat-it seemed that she was eleven years old again, and everything was concealed to her.  
The connection was broken now. Sirius's palm now left her, and he regained his composure, moving toward the door in sweeping footsteps, prepared to leave, giving Harry a quick, affectionate glance. But as he gripped the rusting copper doorknob, Hermione's voice blurted out, strangely clear around the thick curtain of oblivion.  
  
"Sirius," she called out, "Sirius, I haven't been able to get any copies of the Daily Prophet lately- I need to ask you--has there been any update on-- "  
  
"Ron?"  
Ron Weasley, the very same. The tall, fire-haired and mouthed freckly boy, her best friend, and the one she'd been most fretful about besides Harry. It wasn't right of her to be so bothered about him-that's what everyone else said-since when Mr. Arthur and Mrs. Molly Weasley had fallen defenseless among a pack of Death Eaters, Ron had decided that with no family or money immediately available to help, the only option was to become a Death Eater himself. Yet she hoped and waited so patiently for him to come back, back to hers and Harry's aid. He would be there again, she knew it.  
Sirius was hesitant before supplying her with an uneasy answer.  
  
"Yes-yes, there has been some information in the news regarding him." He stopped before continuing any further.  
  
"Rumors have it that he and another-another Death Eater-unidentified- disappeared from contact the day before Harry was attacked. Since everyone thinks it a scandal to find what they call a turncoat and Azkaban has been freed of Dementor population, the Ministry has denied a search warrant from his brothers and sister and no clues concerning their welfare have been found."  
  
Before Hermione had the chance to answer him, Sirius looked back and added consolingly, "It must be hard, but keep believing, Hermione. He's most likely to return to us. He's always had a good spirit, and nothing can change that, even he can't. He was probably more distressed than some of us, and when he changes leaf..."  
  
A slight grin curved upon Sirius's face, and he twisted the doorknob.  
  
"I have to go now. I'll see if I can send you an owl-I need to find out how you three are doing, as usual. The Ministry knows your involvement, and they might call on you sooner or later. Good luck, and remember..."  
  
The gigantic, hairy black dog now stood where the man had been, and not forgetting an affirming glimpse at Harry and Hermione, nudged the door open and strode through the dull, empty hallway.  
'It's about time I left as well...'  
Agreeing to leave him in peace, Hermione noiselessly made her way to where he lay, and a faded beam lit her meager appearance as her fingers ran through his hair for the last time that night, and her hand caught hold of his, squeezing it tenderly. She promised she wouldn't forget what Sirius said-he was right. Harry, even if he was unmoving at the minute, would undoubtedly do the same thing.  
'Be brave.'  
When Hermione Granger reached the Three Broomsticks a couple of hours later, she was told by the bartender after a warming butterbeer that the blond man she had conversed with the day before had rented a room and left that morning. 


End file.
